


delicate

by snokoplazm



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demisexual Phil Lester, Emotional, Fluff, M/M, Nail Polish, No Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 05:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17238182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snokoplazm/pseuds/snokoplazm
Summary: Everyone still dances, unbothered by a thing, and the lights still change of colour every now and then. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the shadows they create on Phil's face.(Dan is 24, has a reputation for sleeping around and is miserable in life. Phil is demisexual and a sweetheart. They meet one night at a club and spend the rest of it together, but not like that.)





	delicate

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song Delicate, by Taylor Swift.

It's late when he arrives, but he's used to this. To the scent of toxicity in the air, to the smoke coming out of people's mouths, to the cold bar, which is always either packed with people or empty (and how sticky it sometimes is), everyone grind dancing somewhere in the center of the club. The bar is where he goes straight to every time he comes here, never coming in for motives other than sex.

So the routine goes: long day at a job that makes him unhappy, feeling lonely, coming to this club, drinking until he feels brave enough to flirt, leaving with someone. Fucking said someone, always leave in the morning, long day at a job that makes him unhappy.

The thing is,  _every day is a long day at work_ , but it's not like he comes here every night. He knows he's talked about, it's mostly the same people that come to this place, but at this point in his boring, sad life, could he care less?

Strangers are strangers, and that's why they can be useful: because you don't know them. That's the point. Feelings are so complicated. Love requires so much effort. It's like handing your heart to a person for them to break at any point, and he just… he can't be bothered.

He's got a text from his mum, she wants him to go over and have some coffee or something. He can't be bothered, she'll ask about his love life and his job, and how do you tell your mum that you're only eating trash and being miserable at work and fucking strangers? Unhappiness can just be so comfortable, and how do you pretend to be happy to a person that can see right through you when loneliness weights on your shoulders and any feelings other than miserabilia scare the fuck out of you?  

 

He twists a cup in his hand, staring at the ice that dances around in it. _Coca Cola_. He does not want to drink tonight, he doesn't even want sex, he just doesn't want to go to his cheap, crappy flat with too little furniture. Can it even be called home?

He really should go to therapy. His mum wants to see him, and he's aware he's gotten skinnier. _This is a dead end_ , he thinks as ice cubes bump into eachother.

This guy takes a seat some chairs apart from him then. He breathes heavily and lays his hands on his knees, closes his eyes for a few seconds. Dan thinks he's trying to regain his energy to go back to having fun for a moment, but then his breathing gets quicker and heavier and _fuck, that's a panic attack._   

Dan quickly jumps off his seat and goes to stand right in front of him. He grabs this guy's shoulders and takes exaggerated slow breaths, puffs his chest and lets air go from his mouth, and it works. The guy opens his eyes to look at him through his glasses and he tries his best to mimic Dan's breathing.

In a few moments, his breathing is slow and steady again. When he relaxes, Dan stops.

“Better?”

The guy takes one last deep breath before he lets it go and croaks out a “ _Yeah_.”

Now that he isn't panicking, Dan inevitably takes two things in: this guy is pretty. Like, really pretty, but he did just have a slight panic attack. If the circumstances were different, maybe he would procrastinate on feeling sorry for himself and try to get to fuck him instead, but in reality, there is nowhere he wants to get as of right now. Also, there's a certain familiarity to him, like he's seen him before, but he just can't place him.

“Yeah, it's just that-” he pauses to gulp. “My friend ditched me and I _hate_ clubs.” Then he closes his eyes, as if cringing at his own words. “That probably sounded lame.”

There is a northern accent thick in his words, and his voice is deep and nice. So nice. The kind of voice that could so smoothly melt you into butter.

“Why'd you come here if you hate clubs?”

“Well… my roommate's friends think I'm boring, I guess, so they wanted to take me out to have _fun_.” He signs air quotes around the word, except he does them with his whole hands instead of index and middle finger. Dan doesn't think he notices. He has really nice hands.

“I knew they'd ditch me,” the guy says and Dan snaps out of his trance, tries not to be too obvious.

“Yeah, I've never seen you here before.”

Panicking guy's forehead wrinkles slightly.

“You come here a lot?”

Dan straightens his back on his seat. He sucks his lip in and scans the room. He shouldn't have said that.

“I kind of hate it here too.” It's not a lie. He does hate it. “What's your name?”

“Phil,” the guy, _Phil_ says.

“I'm Dan.” He smiles a tiny smile.

 

Phil orders a soda and they watch people and drink their cokes in silence, and it's not awkward. Everyone still dances, unbothered by a thing, and the lights still change of colour every now and then. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the shadows they create on Phil's face. His nose is odd, kind of hook shaped but not in a bad way. It just makes him look very unique in this way that makes him even prettier and so interesting. The colored lights look pastel on his pale skin, and his eyebrows are ginger, for fuck's sake. Ginger. Is he a fake raven?

“I heard pictures last longer,” Phil says, and for the first time in god knows how long, Dan feels his face turn hot in a blush.

He takes a sip of his coke.

“You _are_ cute,” he says quietly, cup covering his mouth.

Phil looks at him carefully, as if he was just now noticing his existence, and he makes no effort to suppress or conceal himself checking him out, and Dan really feels a stray butterfly or two flutter around in his gut. He chooses to ignore them and tries to somehow hide, make himself smaller under Phil's gaze. _Why can't I play it cool tonight?_

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Phil asks after a while. Dan tries to drink the last drop of soda and lifts his brows in his forehead.

“Not like-” Phil says before he's breaking into giggles. When he laughs, he closes his eyes and holds his hands out in front of his mouth, but not close enough to cover it. His teeth are crooked in this _way_ , and his tongue pokes out, and Dan thinks he is adorable.

“Not like _that,_  I mean… It's still pretty early and you're nice, I was thinking we could go for milkshakes if you want.”

 _Milkshakes_. It makes Dan smile wide. No one had wanted to take him out of here for milkshakes, ever.

He checks his phone.

“It's 11 pm,” he says before putting it back in one of his back pockets.

“That's fine, we can search for places that are still open.”

Dan shakes his head. The smile on his face could split him in two.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters and gets up from his seat. Phil follows him out.

 

 

There is a bakery not too far from the club, and it's still open, surprisingly. It smells strongly of freshly baked cakes and something like cotton candy, maybe? And Phil is so charming as he orders _two milkshakes, please._ Dan has a chocolate milkshake, Phil orders a strawberry one and a ginger cookie and pays for everything before he can even protest.

They sit in a booth next to a window, one in front of the other. Dan takes a long sip of his milkshake and looks at Phil expectantly.

“Do you want to taste my cookie?” Phil asks, and he says it carefully, probably realising what it sounds like. Dan has to swallow as to not choke. Then they're both laughing.

“Why does that sound so wrong…”

“I offered you a bit of my cookie as the kind and generous person that I am, you're just a gross boy. Naughty,” he says.

Dan winks at him and goes back to sipping on his milkshake.

“Whatever,” Phil mutters and rolls his eyes, but he smiles. With his hands, he breaks the cookie in two and pushes one half across the table and in front of Dan.

“It's your cookie!” Dan says before he pushes it back.

“I don't mind,” Phil says quietly and pushes it forward.

So he finds himself drinking milkshakes with a handsome boy he just met at twelve am, and there is something about Phil's soft voice and delicate movements that make him feel so vulnerable and exposed. The delicateness of Phil's every action makes him want to _weep_. Instead he drinks his chocolate milkshake, which suddenly makes him feel so stupid, and asks for Phil's opinion on dogs.

He learns that Phil loves dogs, and all animals in general but specially dogs. He shows Dan one corgi sock long on his ankle. The other sock he wears is an orange jack-o'-lantern one. Dan's heart aches for a moment.

“What do you do?” he asks.

“I'm a video editor. What do _you_ do?”

“Video editing is so cool, I always wanted to do something like that. I have a boring office job, I hate it.”

“You're a salesman?” Phil asks, laughing at him.

“Don't laugh!!”

Phil covers his mouth with both hands and nods.

“And what do you do in life, in general?”

“Just work,” Dan says and takes a sip.

“The job you hate?”

“I listen to music a lot, watch a lot of Netflix, play too many video games…” _Fuck around a lot..._

“Do you have any friends?”

“Why are you coming for me?!”

Phil giggles, and seeing him giggle makes Dan's brain stutter.

“No, I don't have any friends, Phil,” he says.

“You _didn't_ have any friends,” Phil attempts to wink and fails, exaggerating a blink instead.

Dan's laugh is loud, almost a scream.

They talk about everything and nothing, and when there’s silence, then it can just be silence. They leave the bakery at 1am when a group of drunk guys come in laughing out loud and tripping over their own feet. Dan feels sorry for the people who work there all night.

Then they're outside, and suddenly he doesn't know what to do. He checks his nails as if to hide, waiting for Phil to say something, but doesn't dare to look at him. He just really, really doesn't want to leave Phil right now. He doesn't want to go home yet.

“Okay, so,” Phil says. “I guess this is goodbye?”

Dan doesn't say anything, just plays with the ends of his jacket. He suddenly wants to cry slightly, he doesn't know exactly why. He feels tiny now that Phil looks at him like this. He can feel his struggle, how he doesn't know what to do with him and now he feels so ashamed because Phil doesn't know what to do.

“Do you wanna watch a movie at my place? I ran out of popcorn, but we can go to Sainsbury's to buy some snacks if you want.”

Dan looks up at him. His eyes are crystals, and he wants to say thank you but he can't speak. He nods his head and suddenly, Phil is stretching his hand out for him to hold, so he does. He holds Phil's hand and feels his stomach do weird things inside of him (he hates it. He kind of hates Phil).

Phil calls a cab for them and doesn't let go of Dan's hand.

“Are you okay?” he asks on their way to Sainsbury's. Their hands have stayed together, but he gives Dan space in case he needs it, sat at the opposite end of the cab.

“Yeah, I'm…” Dan sniffs wetly and presses the back of his hand to his eyes, wipes away the wetness on his lashes. “I don't know what's happening to me, I'm sorry...”

He feels Phil squeeze his hand.

“It's okay… You can cry if you want,” he says so softly, and it breaks Dan. It breaks him.

Tears roll free on his cheeks right then.

“Fuck,” he whispers, hides his face with his free hand. _What is wrong with me?_

Phil scooches closer to him so that they're glued together and with his free hand wipes a tear from his cheek, caresses his face.

“Hey, it's okay…”

The softness of it makes him cry harder, and Phil lets go of his hand so that he can put his arm around him. Dan lays his head on his shoulder and lets Phil play with his curls and just cries. Just for a moment.

By the time the cab is at the Sainsbury's parking lot, Dan feels significantly better. He gives a few last sniffles and Phil folds his index finger to wipe out any remaining tears on Dan's face. He pays the driver and holds the door open for him.

 

Phil is so charming he thinks he might just love him, but his feelings are a mess right now so he suppresses the thought.

Dan follows Phil everywhere inside the shop. He feels kind of useless, just following him around and barely able to speak. Like a baby duck.

They grab their box of popcorn and stay silent for a while. Walking to the registers, one of the beauty isles catches Dan's eye. He can see full rows of nail polish bottles. They form a nice rainbow, and Phil catches him looking. He always wanted to paint his nails.

“Do you paint your nails?” Phil asks.

“Not really.” But he's still looking.

“We could try it out. I could do your nails.”

He turns to look at him then.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Dan adores him. He adores him so much.

“I could kiss you,” he says.

Phil makes a high pitched _mmm_ sound, sucks his lips in a tight line and squints his eyes. It means an _I don't know about that._

“What?” Dan feels so, so offended.

“You're just. I like you, I do, you're just emotional right now and I feel like I'd be taking advantage of you, I don't want that.”

He stares at Phil in shock. _How the fuck did I get so lucky to meet you tonight_ , he thinks.

“Why are you so amazing?”

Phil smiles at him and shakes his head.

“I'm _decent_.”

 

So Dan is picking out a few nail polish bottles of pretty colours. He picks black, a salmon red, a glittery one.

“Do you want _me_ to do yours?” he asks Phil and Phil shrugs.

“I don't think I could pull it off.”

Dan clicks his tongue.

“Come on, you'll look amazing! What's your favourite colour?”

“Blue.”

“How manly,” he giggles.

He picks a nice blue sky shade and takes Phil's hand in his.

“Let's go.”

Phil keeps on paying for things even after Dan volunteers, and Dan keeps feeling his heart hurt in the best way over him.

 

 

Phil's place is big-ish and minimalist. Dan hates climbing so many stairs to get in, but it's cozy and a lot nicer than he could afford himself. It makes sense that he has a roommate.

Phil checks the time. “I think Jimmy should be arriving at any moment,” he says. “But I need to tell you something.”

Dan's stomach falls. Of course this was too good to be real.

“What, is he your boyfriend?”

“What? Dan, no.” Phil laughs a little and Dan feels relief wash over him, but then Phil's laughter dies down and he is looking at the floor. “No, it's just that… I don't know how to say it.”

“What?”

Phil looks at him and sighs.

“Jimmy... like, he warned me about you.”

Dan furrows his eyebrows.

“What do you mean? About _me_?”

“You kind of have a reputation...” He says it so quietly he almost doesn't hear him.

Dan doesn't know what to say. He laughs loudly after a few seconds.

“As if I'd just jump on you?! What the fuck! Why are you telling me this?!” He screams, high pitched, before breaking into laughter. "Why does he even care? _I_ don't know the bitch!"

“Because _the bitch_ is my friend and he's my roommate. He'll come home and he'll see you and probably jump to the wrong conclusions,” Phil says before dropping on the couch.

 _What the fuck_ , he thinks. “And it bothers you that he'll think you slept with me? Is that it?” 

“No, Dan. He warned me because he's got this concept that I'm fragile cause’... I don't _have_ sex.” He says it so quietly, as if Dan would ever judge him at this point.

“Did something happen to you? Are you asexual?” Dan asks cautiously, quietly.

“No, neither of those, I just.” He clicks his tongue. “I mean, I _like_ sex, I just can't have it if it means nothing. Like, it's a more emotional thing for me, I can't have it with just anyone, there _has_ to be a deep connection and I haven't had a boyfriend in a while, so...”

He adores Phil. He sounds ashamed of himself, and Dan feels so bad that he feels shame over something so meaningless.

He sits on the couch next to him, lays his hand on Phil's knee.

“But Phil, there's nothing to be ashamed of… That's fine.”

“And are you not upset that I can't have sex with you yet?” The yet in Phil's fracing manages to be terrifying and comforting, but there is nothing he'd rather.

“Of course not.”

Phil sighs again, raises his eyebrows in relief.

“Good.”

They stay quiet for a moment. He doesn't remove his hand from Phil's knee.

“And does it bother you to know that I've slept with lots of people?” he asks quietly. This is the first time he feels ashamed of it, ever. The fact that Phil can make him ashamed of it is scary. Really, really scary.

“No,” Phil says tiredly. He stretches his arm for him to cuddle, Dan thinks, but when he inches closer Phil pulls him in and kisses his forehead. “Just don't do it anymore.”

The softness of it astonishes him. Phil astonishes him. He looks at him, takes in each of his features. His eyes are blue and yellow and green, and Dan is so big, bigger than him, but in his arms he feels so tiny. Phil looks a little sleepy and perfect, and he looks back at him. He feels naked under Phil's gaze, but cautiously decides it's okay. In this moment, the fondness in his heart isn't so scary. The butterflies in his gut don't bother him.

“When you blush, this little spot on your face gets redder than the rest,” Phil says. He delicately touches a space low on Dan's right cheek with the index finger of the arm that isn't around him.

And Dan is speechless, no words can come to his brain. His voice is completely caught in his throat, but that's okay, because Phil closes his eyes and kisses him.

Phil rests his hand light on Dan's jaw, and when he kisses him there's a lot of feeling to it. He feels when he kisses Phil as if he had been in love since always. They make out there on the couch for a long while.

When Phil pulls apart, Dan can't open his eyes. Not for a few seconds.

“Has anyone told you that you're very beautiful before?”

Phil's voice is even deeper than it is normally. The truth is, he _had_ been told that he's beautiful. A few men had gotten emotional after one night stands, he had been told that he's beautiful. He had been called many things, but it never had meant anything for him. It had never made him feel as if he's floating high up in the sky, and so tied down to earth with someone else, so _alive._ Much less at the same time.

He opens his eyes, and Phil is looking at him as if he actually was special. The butterflies in his gut are all raving, going all over his insides, having sex with eachother.

“Yeah,” he croaks.

Phil taps Dan's nose, pecks his lips softly, and Dan is in a trance with just how much he adores him.

“Do you want me to do your nails now?”

 _Just how did the universe come up with you,_ he wonders _._

“Yeah,” he says and hides his face in Phil's armpit. He can feel Phil's body vibrate and shake when he laughs at him.

 

They sit in front of eachother on the couch with crossed legs. Phil is painting Dan's nails with the light red shade and he _tries_ to be careful, but his hands just shake so much.

“Why are you shaking? Are you nervous for something?”

“No, my hands just shake all the bloody time! The doctor said it's just a slight tremor, damn it. It's so inconvenient."

“Just a slight tremor? You're doing a mess!”

He is. There is so much nail polish around his nail beds, but he lets him work even though he wants to scream with how much it frustrates him.

When Phil finishes, Dan paints his nails with the baby blue. The color matches Phil's eyes, he does notice, but he doesn't say anything, and his job is a lot less shitty.

“How old are you?” Dan asks quietly, still focusing on the tiny brush on Phil's nails, careful not to mess it up with his giant hands.

“Twenty eight,” Phil says and Dan looks up with huge eyes.

“No way!”

“Why, do I look too old?”

“No, you look so much younger! I thought you were closer to my age!”

“How old are you?” Phil asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“I'm twenty four,” he says already back to his work on Phil's hands. His nails are actually neat.

 

So they leave the polish bottles on the coffee table and make the popcorn on Phil's microwave and kiss while they wait for them to be done. When the microwave beeps, Phil takes the bag out.

“Do you think _microwave_ is an onomatopoeia?” Dan asks.

Phil looks at him almost horrified, but he giggles after a moment.

“No, it's not,” he says. His voice sounds fond, Dan notices it. He's glad Phil doesn't think he's stupid.

“But how do you know?! It _is_ an onomatopoeia!”

“I have an english language degree,” he says as he opens the bag and puts them all in a bowl.

Dan sure feels stupid now. Law school dropout.

“Oh.”

It doesn't matter when Phil takes the bowl in his hands and feeds him one popcorn. Then he kisses his nose. Dan feels as if he was flying again.

 

They wash their hands and remove all the excess nail polish from their fingers, and the blue does look amazing on Phil with his pale skin and blue eyes.

They put on _Kill Bill_ , which they've both seen before, and watch it cuddled together on the couch. Under Phil's arm is Dan's favourite place on earth, he decides.

 

They don't hear the sound of keys coming from the door, drowned out by the movie. They also don't hear Jimmy walk in the living room and towards them. It's Phil the one who notices him standing there, and he jumps. That's how Dan notices too.

No one says a word. Jimmy looks at Phil as if he was looking at a stranger.

“Uh, goodnight lads, I'm going to sleep, you two have fun,” he says. It comes out almost like a question. He then walks out of the living room and into the hall.

Phil sighs.

“How will you explain?” Dan asks.

“Dunno, don't care.” He looks at the windows and Dan follows his gaze. The sky is a much lighter colour than when they arrived at Phil's apartment.

He checks his phone.

“Phil, it's five am.”

“I'm so tired, can we go to sleep?”

“Oh, I'm sleeping with you now?”

“Yeah.”

Dan can't complain, just presses STOP in the TV remote.

 

Phil's room is not minimalist at all. There is art hung on the walls and an emoji plush on top of Phil's drawers and it's kind of messy.

Phil locks the door and takes off his shirt in one swift motion. Dan wants to whistle at him as he watches, but chooses to keep it to himself.

He searches in his drawers for some pajamas, hands Dan some plaid pajama pants and a black _Papyrus_ tee shirt, which he instantly loves both because of the character and because it's Phil's and he's definitely keeping it.

He considers whether to change clothes right there or to ask where the bathroom is, when Phil simply undoes his belt and takes off his jeans. He feels like an idiot just stood there watching with the pajamas in his hands.

“Phil, you have no sense of decency. You're _not_ decent.”

He thinks he's ignoring him, as he just continues to put on a green tee shirt.

“I am,” Phil says quietly. “I'm just seeing how you'll react.”

He _hates_ him, with his long, pale legs and white  _Calvin Kleins_ and nice ass. He absolutely hates him.

Dan has to turn around to change.

When he looks at Phil again, he's got Cookie monster pajamas on, and he's looking at him with a huge grin on his face.

“Stop!” He says. He can feel his face burn.

“I'm not doing anything at all.”

“You're… looking at me!”

“Can't I look at you? You're nice looking.”

Dan _ughs_. “I'm _nice_ looking.”

“You're stunning.”

“Phil…” He's about to make a joke, he's about to say his last name, but he realises he doesn't know it.

“Lester,” Phil says.

“Lester, Phil Lester…” he mutters. He's sure he's heard the name before. He can't quite place it, and then it just clicks.

Holy shit.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” he says with wide eyes. “Phil _Lester,_ you used to make videos and I watched them, like, many years ago _._ ”

“ _Wow_ ,” Phil says with raised eyebrows and a wrinkly forehead.

“I had a _huge_ crush on you.”

“ _That_ is crazy. How small is the UK.”

Dan thinks of it for a moment. The UK _is_ small, but the chances aren't. He's always been so cynical, and maybe the universe played a funny joke on him. Maybe it was destiny, but he brushes the thought off.

“I had a huge crush on you and now we're here. We have so much to make up for.”

Phil smiles and goes to lay in bed. He opens his arms for Dan to climb in, and Dan gladly does.

“We have the time to make up for it,” Phil says and yawns, arranges the sheets over them, and Dan seriously adores him.

“Oh man, how am I going to explain to Jimmy…”

“You don't have to,” Dan says cuddling closer. “We'll move out.” It's a joke, and he should not joke like that just now, but he's kind of falling asleep and Phil smells so good. Dan is a sucker for a guy that smells good.

Phil laughs, and Dan loves the feeling of the vibrations in Phil's chest.

“Yeah, I'd quite like to take you to dinner first?”

“You say that to all the boys.”

And Phil laughs again. He loves making him laugh. 

“I really don't.”

 

Silence falls on them, but he doesn't fall asleep yet. He thinks of his mum's texts on his phone left on read (and, which kind of asshole leaves his mum on read?), of the circumstances, of Phil, of _this,_  of his life. He doesn't want to be unhappy anymore.

 

“I usually leave in the mornings,” Dan says quietly to not disturb Phil if he's asleep, but he really, really hopes he hears.

And he does.

“Well, it's morning now and I'm not letting go, both metaphorically and physically, and now you're going to sleep.” He kisses his forehead. “Sleep.”

Dan wants to cry, again. These would be tears of joy, though. He truly, really adores him.

“Good morning, Phil.”

“Good morning, Dan.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you maya (@howellettes on tumblr) for finding the word 'protest' for me and for giving me the most boring job for dan that you don't need a degree for. love u girl


End file.
